


Getting the Taste Out

by apollos



Series: all the times in-between [3]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Coda, Consent Play, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, kinda fluffy but still very much in the realm of mac and dennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: Dennis enlists Mac in a plan to forget all about those awful accusations. Coda for 6x07, "Who Got Dee Pregnant?"





	Getting the Taste Out

**Author's Note:**

> tagged this with consent play because of some dialogue and dynamics, but it's all still consensual and even kinda fluffy (or as fluffy as they can be.) this is also pretty firmly anti-dee/dennis-incest. anyway, despite my intentions with this series, the next couple of oneshots focus more on angst and the macdennis relationship dynamic rather than straight porn, so this is the last of the pwp for a while.

Back at Paddy's and Mac is sitting on a stool, nursing a beer, watching Dennis clean the glasses. It's late, nearing when they would usually close. Frank and Charlie have left to go hang out under the bridge and Dee is back at the apartment, being pregnant or whatever. So: Dennis, Mac, a couple of old men scattered about, and Dennis cleaning glasses, stopping to gag every few minutes.

"You didn't _actually _have sex with her," Mac reminds him, cringing as Dennis shoves the back of his hand against his mouth.

"I know." Dennis takes his hand away and swipes through another glass. Mac is pretty sure he already cleaned that one. Mac is also pretty sure that they really don't do much with their glasses besides run them under the water every now and then. Mac is also pretty sure they mostly serve beer. All these things together lead Mac to the conclusion that Dennis is losing it. "I just can't get the taste out of my mouth."

"Did you brush your teeth?" Mac asks. "You did puke a lot."

"No, no, not _that_." Dennis glares at Mac. "Of course I brushed my teeth, Mac. It's an _expression_. You know—I can't get the taste out of my mouth, I can't forget."

"There is nothing to forget. You did not have sex with her."

"The _idea_, Mac!" Dennis flings the rag behind him. "The _idea_ of having sex with my sister—I cannot abide it."

"Then stop thinking about it," Mac suggests. He leans on the bar, surprised that Dennis screaming about incest hasn't drawn the attention of any of their patrons. Then again, they are regulars.

"It's not that simple." Dennis groans and hoists himself over the bar, too, propping his elbows and folding his hands. His forehead is close to Mac. His breath smells fine, minty toothpaste, no bad taste to be found, Mac is certain. "I'm gonna be thinking about this for weeks, dude."

"Gross." Mac scrunches his nose. "To be honest, now you've got me thinking about it, and I don't like it, either."

"Yeah, no, of course not." Dennis holds Mac's eyes. "Because of the incest."

"Because of the incest," Mac agrees.

"It's not the incest." Dennis shakes his head. "I mean, yeah, for me, of _course _it's the incest—it's _Dee_, we shared the same _womb, _the same _changing table_—but that's not it. For you."

"Yeah, no, I'm pretty sure it's the incest." Mac leans back. "Like, dude. That's wrong. That's a sin against God."

"Sin against God," Dennis echoes, leaning back as well. Sometimes looking at Dennis is like looking in a mirror—a warped, funhouse mirror, but a mirror nonetheless.

"Yeah."

"Well, look." Dennis stretches as he says so, his shirt riding up, and Mac starts to stutter through a sarcastic retort, _what do you want me to look at, exactly, _but Dennis is still talking, talking over Mac, as usual. "Let's close the bar. I have an idea to, you know, take both our minds off it."

"Alright." Mac shrugs. "Time to close anyway. And stop cleaning the glasses! I do that."

"You do not do that. These glasses are filthy."

"Well, no, I don't _technically _do it, none of us do it—all the more reason to stop, in my opinion."

Dennis shrugs it off and turns around, piling together some things behind the bar. Mac stands up an makes the announcement that the place is about to close; the old men grumble and filter out like fish out of a farm, handing Mac crumpled bills that roughly amount to their tabs before they go. When Mac's lead the last of them out and turns the sign from _Opened _to _Closed_, he turns around with his hand on the light switch. "Coming?"

"Oh, we're staying." Dennis walks out from behind the bar. "Back office."

"Okay. Should I turn the lights off, though—"

"Does it really matter—"

"I don't want people to think we're open—"

"Then shut the lights!" Dennis shouts. He throws his palms up. "Mac, I am _trying _to have _sex _with you, and as usual, you are making things _very _difficult."

"Oh, oh. Yes. Of course." Mac flicks the light switch down and hurries to catch up with Dennis, who tosses an arm around his shoulders as soon as Mac's in step behind him. Into the back office, where they do turn the lights on, shutting the door and propping the thing underneath the knob to prevent anybody from coming in. Mac does that. Mac always does that. "Why here, though?" he asks. "We've got beds back at home. Nice beds."

"This is my idea, alright?" Dennis says. He gestures for Mac to sit in the computer chair, which he does, his thighs starting to thrum with nervous excitement. Dennis sits on the desk in front of him, legs spread, hands clasped beneath his thigh, bottom lip sticking out. He looks tired, drained, but also indescribably sexy, like this. "The whole story was that Dee and I—" he gags around the words, a little less sexy—"had…relations back here, right? Well, I don't want to think about this every time I walk in here, and I'm sure you don't, either."

"No." Mac shakes his head emphatically.

"Right. So, I thought, let's _actually _have sex here, and that'll clear it up."

"We've banged here before," Mac points out. "Pretty sure we banged here like, two months ago."

"Not the point, Mac! Jesus Christ, sometimes I feel like I have to pull your dick out of your pants and shove it up my ass _myself_."

"That's kinda hot." Mac grins, leaning back in the desk chair and spreading his legs. "You wanna do that?"

"Yes. But let me finish my brilliant plan here." Dennis sighs. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls the fly down while he talks, and Mac almost forgives him for the sight of him shimmying his jeans and briefs down like that. "It's, ah—it's like painting over a wall, right? There was paint, and then it was painted again, and now we're going to paint it again. So the paint will be the color we want. Even though it was that color at one point. Are you getting me?"

"Not really." Mac palms himself through his own jeans, too concerned with if Dennis is going to go through with his word than with this weird wall painting analogy. "Look, I don't care. Yes—I want to have sex with you."

"Finally," Dennis harrumphs. He hops off the desk and kneels between Mac's legs, tugging at his jeans. He gets them off and gets his mouth to Mac's cock, sucking it in with ease. Mac moans, threshing his fingers through Dennis's hair and pulling him close. This is fine, he thinks—he's always liked these types of blowjobs, giving or receiving, the desk chair and the sound of the rackety old air conditioning, the urgency with the fear of getting caught lingering around the edges. Not a big chance they'll get caught, tonight, though, and all too soon Dennis pulls off. He wipes at his mouth and looks up at Mac, looking grim, serious.

Mac hates that look. It makes it hard to pretend. But that's gone because Dennis smiles and stands up, pushing Mac as far down as he can go in that chair, and straddles his lap. His jeans roll down with the movement, exposing his ass, and Mac grabs that tight flesh, digging his fingers into it.

"Lube?" Mac starts to ask, but Dennis kisses him hard, cradling Mac's face. Mac leaves it for now, just keeps grabbing Dennis's ass, letting Dennis grind his hard cock against Mac's. Mac stays as still as he can, fights the urge to thrust, just to keep Dennis gyrating, just to keep their bodies rubbing together like this, cock against cock, tongue against tongue, nose against nose, wondering if Dennis's face will be rubbed raw and red from the scruff after this is done, all those little pores opened up.

Panting, Dennis sits up and twists his body around—excellent musculature, curve of his neck, collarbones, Mac kisses his bicep—and reaches into a drawer. "Here we go," he says. A bottle of lotion.

"You know, I'm pretty sure everybody uses that," Mac says. "Pretty sure I've caught Charlie jerking in here. And Frank."

"Yeah, well, let's never say we didn't do anything for them, huh?" Dennis coats his fingers in the stuff. Mac reaches out for some, too, but Dennis swats his hand away. "No, I'm doing this. Anyway, ew—Charlie, Frank, jacking off, gross. Why would you say that?"

"I mean—now I forget it, right?" Mac grins up at Dennis, thinking he's finally get this. "We have mind-blowing sex and blow all that shit out of minds?"

"Yes, Mac." Dennis smiles at him and leans down to kiss him, and Mac feels his heart has turned into a hummingbird, beating its fast little wings against his chest.

Dennis slicks Mac's dick up with the lube, and then holds two of Mac's hands together—slippery with lotion, it's not as effective but Mac plays in with the game, lets Dennis take what he wants—as he fingers himself, making breathy little moans into Mac's mouth. Mac tips his head back and lets Dennis just nose his way into Mac's neck, licking and biting without any particular aim, until he takes his fingers away and grabs ahold of Mac's cock again. He lowers down, not slow and easy like Mac always does, wanting it to last, but with an immediacy, wanting Mac's cock in him as quickly as possible. Mac groans, thrusts to this end.

"Yeah," Dennis says. "Just like that. See? Just like that."

Mac bites his lip, eyes rolling in his head. Dennis moves his hands to Mac's hips, on either side of his own thighs, pushing Mac down. He takes the impetus himself—_power bottom_, Mac thinks from somewhere deep in his mind. Dennis bounces up and down with no regard for Mac, tugging on his own cock while he does, throwing his head back. Mac lets him; Mac loves the sight.

He needs to thrust, though—needs to get that good angle for him—but Dennis doesn't let him, just keeps his up-and-down motion going, going, going, his eyebrows coming together and sucking his bottom lip into his teeth. Mac presses the pad of his thumb against that lip, groans when Dennis opens his mouth and admits the digit inside. His mouth feels like his ass, hot and tight and all-consuming, and Mac gives in. Dennis sucks on Mac's thumb as he comes, all over Mac's shirt.

He starts to slide off but Mac grabs him, pulls him down. He gives Dennis a questioning look—_is this okay?_—and Dennis gives him the smallest of nods. It doesn't take long. Mac hitches his hips back up a bit, holds Dennis around his arms and closes his eyes as he leans into Dennis's shoulder, finds the angle, the friction. When he comes he screams into Dennis's skin.

Then he falls back, lets Dennis off him. He pulls his shirt off and hands it to Dennis to clean himself, which Dennis does, leaning back against the desk. "Good," Dennis says finally, balling Mac's shirt up and holding it his hands. "That was good."

"Yeah." Mac rubs at his eyes and gets up from the chair, zips his jeans back up. "Really good. Am I just gonna go home without a shirt, here? I look like a gigolo."

"My gigolo," Dennis says, and the way he holds that come-stained shirt in his hand and he smiles at Mac, well, fuck it. The office smells like sex, their sweat and semen and scents all mingled together, and when Mac walks out the door all he's thinking about is that: Dennis, him, the bar, and nobody else doing anything else.


End file.
